


No Silver Lining

by halfpastmorrow



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-09
Updated: 2010-01-09
Packaged: 2017-10-06 01:18:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfpastmorrow/pseuds/halfpastmorrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the end of the war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Silver Lining

The owl carrying their daily orders arrived along with the grey, pre-dawn light. It tapped its beak against the window with the same briskly imperious manner it used every morning.

The rapid-fire noise startled Remus in his sleep. Shocked into wakefulness, he jerked upright, heart jangling in his chest, one hand going to his wand even before he was fully awake, the other pushing off the covers.

A glance darted toward the window told him it was only the owl, so he flopped backward with an "Oof," of disgust, jostling the bed. It was a most unpleasant way to be awoken.

The bounce of the mattress apparently roused Bill as well because he flung out an arm, patting Remus's thigh in a clumsy, sleep-heavy way. "My turn," he slurred into the pillows, his eyes shut tight.

That notion tickled Remus. He was unable to recall the last time Bill had actually fetched the morning post, and rolled onto his side, propping his head on one hand. He watched him for a moment, more amused than surprised to see that Bill neither opened his eyes, nor lifted his head from the pillow. Then he sat up again, heaving a put upon sigh, not that he really minded. Making himself useful seemed to be his lot in life. He was used to it, and it was better than the alternative, he guessed.

He turned toward Bill again, regarding him speculatively, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes, then flicked his wand at the overhead light. Warm, golden light bloomed from the naked bulb, stuttering like candlelight and setting the shadows bobbing and swaying in an ancient dance.

Bill muttered, pushing his face further into the pillows, and Remus chuckled. However, his amusement at Bill's faint grumble turned into chagrin as he heard a loud roar from the adjoining room and realised that he had over-extended again.

There had been too much outrage in the man's voice for Remus to hear his initial protest, but he distinctly caught the phrase, "with its sodding cheap wiring," through the thin, plasterboard walls. He dimmed the light with a hasty snap of his wrist, and the bellowing subsided.

Then another round of tapping drew his attention back to the bird at the window, and he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. As his weight shifted to his feet, one of them landed awkwardly on a boot that Bill had kicked off in his usual careless fashion the previous evening. The ankle turned beneath him, and he staggered sideways, cursing half under his breath. Struggling to keep himself upright, he called Bill every name he could think of, reserving a few choice epithets for his own stupidity.

He wheeled his arms and blindly threw out a hand, managing to catch himself by the skin of his teeth, not to mention a sizeable chunk off the edge of his palm, on the rickety nightstand. It creaked alarmingly but held his weight, saving him the embarrassment of collapsing in a heap on the floor. Then, ducking his head to hide his rather sheepish grin, he finally made his way over to the window.

The room they were renting was small; it barely took him three steps to get there. But by the time he raised the sash, the owl was clacking its beak, feathers puffed up with its own importance, or that of the news it carried, clearly impatient with the delay. It didn't appear to be any happier after he removed the letter, and turned its back on him, launching itself from the window ledge with a disdainful twitch of its tail feathers.

Remus hadn't noticed the musty scent of old tobacco polluting the room, until the fresh breeze had blown in the open window. Now that he had though, it seemed overwhelming, and he stopped for a moment, leaning on the window frame with his back to the glass, as he took in lungfuls of clean air.

The small room they shared was made even smaller by the shabby, mismatched furniture, all of which seemed to have come from the same junk shop as the ancient nightstand. The bed occupied most of the floor space, and a hulking armoire took up the rest, crowding the tiny table and single chair beneath the window. The walls were covered in a dingy print of green paisley that had seen better days; a long, curling strip dangled above one corner of the bed.

All in all, it was an unremarkable room in an unremarkable section of town, but their board was cheap and their landlady close-mouthed, which was more important than comfort.

Pushing himself off the wall, Remus pulled out the chair absent-mindedly and collapsed onto it, tucking a finger beneath the edge of the missive and breaking the seal. As he unfolded the parchment, he leaned an elbow on the table. One of its legs was shorter than the others, and he shifted his weight trying to find just the right balance while it rocked uncertainly beneath him. When finally settled, he stretched his legs out in front of him and began digesting the contents of the letter, steadfastly ignoring the fact that what he was actually doing was watching Bill around the edge of the parchment.

There was something mesmerising about him. Something that wasn't related to the steady, comforting cadence of his breathing, or the rich splash of his hair over bed linen that might once have been white but was now the faded grey of age and careless washing.

No, it was the certainty he exuded that captured Remus's attention. There was an ease, even in his current decadent sprawl, that stated that Bill knew his place in the world, and Remus couldn't help but be envious. He was so fixated that he failed to notice the sounds of the street below him coming to life, until the persistent beep of a reversing delivery lorry penetrated his awareness. It was only then that he realised that the letter now lay forgotten in his lap. Though he wasn't quite sure when studying their orders had been given over for studying Bill, he decided he didn't give a damn.

He got up, slipped the parchment between the pages of the book on the nightstand, out of harm's way, and sat down on the edge of the bed. A slight smile teased the corners of his mouth as he contemplated Bill silently for a moment, easing away some of the ever present tension that manifested itself in the muscles of his face.

Bill lay on his stomach, one hand tucked under his pillow. Though neither of them was naked -- it wasn't a luxury they could afford, not in this place or time -- Bill was bare-chested, and sometime in the night, as was often his wont, he had pushed the covers down. His back was long, just like the rest of him, burnished by the warm light, and irresistible.

Remus knew as well as anyone that happiness needed to be consumed when found, so he didn't bother to resist.

There was a battle taking place somewhere outside these walls, but this, he decided, was his silver lining.

His first touch was to the shoulder blade, a brief point of contact before he dragged his knuckles down to the small of Bill's back. With his second, he drew the heavy mass of his hair aside and kissed the nape of his neck. The skin warmed his lips, releasing the heat that had been trapped beneath, together with a faint tang of sweat.

His hand inscribed firm, slow circles on Bill's lower back, earning a sleepy moan of contentment, and he inhaled deeply, snuffling against the hairline.

"Morning."

"Time 'szit?" Bill asked, his eyes still closed.

"Early," Remus replied, because while he wasn't sure of the exact time, it was still barely light outside.

Bill made another sleepy contented sound, then protested as Remus pulled away to strip off his nightwear. "I was enjoying that."

"Are you sure that's what you want?" Remus asked, lifting the sheet and throwing it over his lower body as he pressed up against Bill's side. "I could do this instead."

His fingers skated over the sleek fabric of Bill's pants, slipping over and under the rise of his hip, which arched up to accommodate him for a moment before Bill rolled back against him. He made tantalising circles with his hand low on Bill's belly, letting his fingers flirt with the shaft of his firming erection.

Bill's hand slid down his forearm, the slow descent creating a whisper of sensation that seemed to tickle each of the individual hairs on his arm. Arousal gathered within him, tiny freshets of desire welling up with each new sensation, feeding the larger pool in his groin. He ducked his head, darting his tongue out and tasting the hint of sweat on his skin, then scraped his teeth across the shoulder blade.

Bill's hand covered his, fingers dipping between his own as it urged his hand lower. "Mmm, there's nothing I like better than a nice slow wank in the morning."

"So I've heard," Remus said, hiding his grin against Bill's back.

"It's too early for that, you smug git," Bill said, but his relaxed, slightly breathless tone belied his words.

"Oh really, how about this, then?" Remus splayed his hand across Bill's groin, squeezing gently.

"Oh that's..." The low groan that rumbled through Bill's chest echoed in his own. Then Bill gave an odd sort of squirm of his hips, pushing his hips against Remus's hand as he tugged at the waistband of his pants, and said, "Can you... can we?"

Though Remus didn't move his hand and Bill kept bumping restlessly against it, the co-operatively slippery material of the pants helped them slide them down to mid thigh. Remus was hard now too. He pressed up more tightly behind the other man, sliding an arm beneath Bill's neck. He craved touching and being touched like this. Sometimes it felt like he could never get enough, never be close enough.

His fingers tangled in the sparse covering of hair on Bill's chest. Then, completely of his own volition, Bill reached backward, trailing his hand down from hip to knee, and hooked Remus's knee over his, drawing him closer. Which was even better.

He was content to let Bill set the pace, using light touches and teasing strokes, waiting until Bill's hips were pushing his cock in and out his fist before he began to move faster. The repetitive movement made the muscles in his arm burn, but there was a pleasant jolt to his cock every time Bill pushed back against him, and his breath shortened. The cacophony of nightly noises from the adjacent rooms had taught them the value of silence, and Bill turned his head, blunting a moan in the crook of his elbow, and Remus felt his scalding breath on the tender inside of his arm as Bill pushed forward one last time and came.

Still rocking his hips against Bill's arse ever so slightly, he waited until Bill stretched, before saying, "Awake now?"

"Mornin'," Bill replied. He rolled onto his back, then looped an arm around Remus's neck, pulling him down toward himself, and drew him into a long, lazy kiss. "So has the post come?"

Remus propped himself up on one elbow, his other hand shifting through Bill's hair. "Quite some time ago."

"I take it there weren't any fresh instructions."

"No, nothing new, just a note on the bottom from your mother," he said with a quirk of his lips.

With one dizzyingly swift movement, Bill rolled over, trapping Remus beneath him.

"What have I told you," he growled, his face only inches from Remus's, "about bringing up my mother when we're in bed." Though Bill's tone was light, there was something half hidden in his eyes that made Remus's breath stutter and die in his chest.

He lay there frozen for what seemed like an age, fearing he had overstepped some unseen mark. It wasn't until Bill's smile touched his eyes that he found he could breathe again.

"Well then," Bill said, running his fingers down the shallow channel of Remus' spine as he moved in for another lazy kiss, "as there's clearly nothing more pressing."

*

The second owl surprised them both, but Remus was out of bed and staggering to the window even before the first round of tapping had stopped. It wasn't unprecedented, but it rarely heralded good news, so his hand shook as he relieved the owl of its burden. The parchment fluttered in his hand as he broke the seal and unfolded it.

The message was short, but its news struck him like a blow. He couldn't get his head around it.

"Remus." Bill's voice seemed to come from miles away, but the hand on his shoulder was warm and real. "Remus."

"He's dead."

Bill hand tightened on his shoulder. "Merlin, Remus, I'm so sorry. I know how much he meant to you."

"Not Harry," he said, turning to offer him the note. "Voldemort. Voldemort's dead."

"What? How?" said Bill, taking the parchment without looking at it, his eyes on Remus's face.

"It... it doesn't say."

"And Harry?"

"He's fine. It says they're all fine," he said, anticipating Bill's next question, wanting to stop him asking it so that he could have a moment to think.

"That's...that's..." Bill didn't seem to know what to say and grabbed Remus up in a hug, lifting him onto the balls of his feet and squeezing him hard, then said in a breathy voice, "I remember the end of the last war. It was absolutely manic. Classes were cancelled. Owls flew in and out, delivering messages all day long. Someone set off an entire box of Filibusters in the Great Hall, and Filch didn't bat an eyelid. The mood was infectious. You couldn't help but be caught up in it, but I don't think I really understood. Now, I wish I had a box of fireworks myself."

He squeezed harder, the embrace so tight that Remus could almost feel the excitement twanging beneath his skin.

"Yes," said Remus, as Bill let him go, responding because he knew it was expected. There hadn't been any fireworks for him that day either.

"Remus," Bill said, gripping his shoulder hard and staring at him intently, "What's wrong with you? This is what we've been working for. You should be happy, over the moon even."

Remus knew his face must look stiff and unnatural, but he couldn't seem to feel anything. He couldn't understand why something that should have been a beginning felt more like an ending.

Bill gave him a little shake. "Remus, talk to me."

When he still didn't answer, Bill drove him back toward the bed with forceful kisses and bore him down upon it, saying, "This is good news."

"Better than good," he said, crawling over Remus and pinning him to the bed by his shoulders and hips. He kissed him hard, driving Remus' slackened lips back against his teeth. "It's fucking brilliant."

Remus lay there dazed by the news and the kiss, until at last, Bill pulled back to look at him, his eyes serious. "Don't you want to give this up?"

Remus felt his throat working overtime as he fought down the protest that rose within.

"Don't you want to stop running and fighting?" Bill stroked his sides, suckling at his throat as he started to nuzzle his way down his body. "Don't you want things to go back to normal?"

"They can't," he croaked, closing his eyes.

"No, I don't s'pose they can," Bill said, with a throb of sympathy in his voice that only served to intensify the discord Remus felt inside. "But wouldn't you like to settle down, to have a home, a job?"

His throat ached. _A family,_ of course Bill would want that. The thought struck Remus like another blow. But there had been no promises made between them, just an unspoken accommodation of need and want. He'd been foolish to expect that it would last.

"Don't you want that, Remus?"

Remus felt something tighten low down, and it had nothing to do with the sensation of Bill's lips trekking across his skin. He did want those things, but for him they were so fleeting. In his experience camaraderie out-lasted everything else.

"I..."

Bill made soothing noises against Remus' skin, lifting his hips off the tangled sheets as he eased his hands beneath them. And Remus's hips jerked up even higher when the point of a firm, wet tongue delved into his navel.

A current of air cooled the damp trail on his stomach as Bill suddenly pulled his head away. The point of his chin dug into Remus's midriff, and Remus opened his eyes to find Bill watching him, a worried frown on his face. "If you don't want..."

"I do," Remus replied, his words edging into a guttural sound as the tip of his cock bumped against Bill's throat.

And he did.

Words blazed across his brain, but he couldn't seem to order them - didn't need to - while Bill's tongue laved a path up the inside of his thigh, nose nudging his ball sac. Nor did they come any easier when Bill curved his hand around the base of his cock. And after Bill's mouth finally engulfed him, they didn't seem necessary at all, so he let them blur into nothingness.

_Back to normal,_ Remus thought afterward as Bill swarmed up into his arms. The world was suddenly off kilter, and he wondered how he would bear it.


End file.
